


Castiels Trench Coat Prompt - A Fluffy Castiel Drabble

by webcricket



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-09-19 03:54:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9417377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/webcricket/pseuds/webcricket
Summary: Fluffy drabble based on the item/object prompt: Castiel's Trench Coat





	

The first time Castiel wrapped his trench coat comfortingly around your huddled figure it was not entirely the angel’s idea.

Bright blue eyes narrowed, he raptly studied you sitting quietly on the curb outside the abandoned warehouse wherein you’d nearly lost your life to the perfect fantasy world crafted by a Djinn.

“Is she alright?” Sam approached the angel, jutting his chin out in your direction, speaking low so as not to disturb you, “Were you able to heal her?”

“Physically,” Cas intoned practically, “she is fine.”

“Good,” Sam exhaled a sigh of relief, crossing his arms and rubbing them for warmth against the encroachingly chilly night air, “that’s good.”

Cas kept his eyes fixed on your rounded back, curiously contemplating the subtle shiver which seized your body each time you exhaled, “However, something is still wrong and I’m afraid it is beyond my ability to repair.”

Sam knitted his eyebrows in concern, gaze drifting to you, “Yeah, she’s been through a lot more than physical trauma, but Y/N’s tough. She just needs to know we’re here for her, that she’s not alone. The Djinn killed everyone she loved. And then we killed them in her mind a second time when we broke the spell. You don’t just bounce back from that kind of loss.”

Cas tensed his jaw, nodding slowly in understanding - he too knew the hollowness of losing everything, of being alone.

“Look, Dean and I are almost ready to start,” Sam glanced over his shoulder toward a dim field beyond the warehouse - to three stacked wood pyres illuminated only by the headlights of the Impala, “you stay here and keep her company.”

“Of course,” Cas’ words dissolved into a smoky plume of cold air.

Sam shook his head derisively, gesturing in your direction, “You know, it’d probably help if you got a little closer.”

“Oh,” the angel shifted nervously from one foot to the other, “right.”

“And she could probably use that coat more than you right now, it’s getting cold out here,” Sam inhaled sharply, tugging the front of his own jacket stiffly together and stuffing his hands in his pockets before starting solemnly across the field to join his brother in observing last funeral rights for your hunter family.

Cas approached you cautiously, endeavoring not to startle you. Standing behind you, he now noted with concern the trembling of your slouched shoulders.

You twisted around calmly, sensing his presence, your eyes wetly catching the glint of the first funeral pyre engulfed by flame.

“Y/N, you’re cold,” he shrugged out of his trench coat, crouching to drape it carefully around you, “please, accept my coat.”

“Thank you,” you sniffled at the first touch of the soft fabric, pressing your eyelids tightly closed against the brightening firelight, a tear brimming over to meander down your cheek, “it’s Castiel, right?”

“My friends call me Cas,” he moved to sit beside you on the low curb, knees awkwardly folding into his chest as he tried to position himself comfortably, “you can call me that if you’d like.”

“Cas,” you tried the name on your tongue, opening your eyes to peer gratefully into his countenance, “thank you again, Cas. For saving me. I didn’t say that before.”

He ceased fidgeting with the placement of his legs and shifted his steely blue eyes to meet yours. His vessel’s heart skipping a beat at what he discovered therein - with this chapter of your life ending, you gazed at him like he was the first page in the remainder of your story. No one had ever looked at him that way before - like he was the most important being in all of creation at that moment. His palm swept to tenderly cup your cheek, thumb reflexively wiping away the tear, “You’re welcome, Y/N.”


End file.
